


A Christmas Poem

by pat_o_cake



Category: Ghost Adventures (TV), IAMX, Most Haunted
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_o_cake/pseuds/pat_o_cake
Summary: A Christmas gift for some with specialist interests. Derek Acorah and Zac Bagens summon the ghost of the un-deceased Chris Corner with erotic results. FEEL IT.





	A Christmas Poem

It was Christmas day night,  
And all through the attic,  
Spectral creatures were stirring,  
Through oculus static.

A last roll of dice,  
For a fortunate fate,  
To reschedule their programmes,  
More prime time than late.

Dim-lit by night vision,  
Derek pressed at the veil,  
Awaiting the messages  
From beyond mortal pale.

His spirit guide Sam,  
Worked up int a flitter,  
Mining spiritual coalface,  
For a physical shitter.

The garret it shook,  
With sudden vibration,  
As Sam's living-dead quarry,  
Announced visitation.

'A BUTTERLY FEELING'  
Came vibrato tone,  
As Derek's tum growl'd ,  
A ripe gastric moan.

'Are you a demon?'  
Chimed Zac with a flourish,  
His Umbro shorts,  
Damp with credited courage.

The air wrapped around,  
Like a damp mouldy sheet,  
Whilst frequencies danced,  
From their head to their feet.

'HALLO MIEN KINDER'  
Scheed a jagged gas hiss,  
As Derek and Zac,  
Released a little more piss.

The voice cut like crystal,  
A rasped oil choke,  
As Derek pondered words,  
At which not to provoke.

'We ask you not harm us'  
The Scouse psychic cried,  
'We just wish to enquire,  
How was it you died?'

Zac fondled equipment,  
Torch lit at the hip,  
Wet beads all a-gather,  
On pubescent lip.

'I AM NOT YET PASSED'  
The voice snapped again,  
'YOUR JOY IS MY LOW,  
CEASE MY SUMMONS FOR FAME'.

Derek chewed cheek,  
Zac quaked with a flutter,  
With a shocking release,  
Of back-passage butter.

'OF MEAT ON MY BONES,  
I WON'T TELL TO SUCH CHANCERS,  
MY MOTIVES REMAIN,  
TO DEFILE TINY DANCERS!'

The cryptic barbed words,  
Snagged Zac in suspense,  
As gut-vented gas,  
Was freely dispensed.

'GET OUT WHILST YOU CAN'  
Cut the voice through thick gloom,  
The pair frantic spinning,  
To exit the room.

Zac made for the door,  
Slipped out on bum-paste,  
With clattering tech,  
Disregarded in haste.

Derek followed along,  
Pushed by guide Sammy,  
His thoughts all a jumble,  
From strange to uncanny.

The house faded to black,  
The pair ran with a trail,  
Of ripe dog eggs spanning,  
Bristolian scale.

'WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU?'  
And with one final act,  
'HAPPY IAMXMAS TO ALL, ALLES KINDER GUTEN NACHT!'


End file.
